St Jambience is let out of the house at weekends. He heads to suburban beer barns and shreds over 80s cover songs. He's locked up for the rest of the week. So the music that pours forth is isolated and has a sense of paranoia being organised into controllable blocks. The detritus of links to the outside world - radio static, guitar tone quotation - seep in as dreams, both good and bad, seep out. These two tracks are just a small peek through the curtain into the vast soundworlds created by St Jambience to make sense of his own duplicit existence.